


Blurred Lines

by LazyPotatoo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Fluff, M/M, Or At Least There Was An Attempt, Post-Canon, Spooky, Squint Hard to Find it, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, st petersburg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 06:19:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12337176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyPotatoo/pseuds/LazyPotatoo
Summary: Yuuri settles into St. Petersburg with his beloved fiance, Victor Nikiforov.





	Blurred Lines

It's another one of those nights where all Yuuri can do is grab at his arms and curl into himself. To slump against the wall and let the disgust and the filth that has always been there rise up and crawl over his skin like a blanket of marching ants.

He doesn't want Victor right now, no--he can't let anyone see him like this, _especially_ Victor.

He needs--he needs something else. He doesn't know what, but it's in these moments where the feeling that something is _wrong_ that's ever present in the hazy edge of his conscience becomes steadily more prominent.

He needs to get away.

* * *

Yuuri stirs, breathing in deep once as he slowly cracks open his eyes. He is greeted with the sight of his fiance, almost nose to nose with him. He can see his idol from up close: the few stray brow hairs that don't follow the same smooth direction the rest of them go, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the small, faint freckle on his right cheekbone. Imperfections. Flaws. He can see them from where he stands but are they really imperfections when they come from Victor Nikiforov?

"Victor, wake up," Yuuri intones. He feels the edges of his lips curve up into a smile as his favorite shade of blue is unveiled on the face of his favorite person.

Victor’s voice is all smooth and rich. "Good morning, Yuuri."

 

They walk down the busy streets of early St Petersburg morning, where the chill in the air bites at everyone's skin indiscriminately. Yuuri involuntarily shivers and rubs at his nose that feels more like a popsicle than anything else.

Victor notices and grabs Yuuri's hand, tucking it into his overcoat's large pocket. Their hands fumble a bit in there until they are palm to palm, fingers weaved together comfortably like matching puzzle pieces.

"St Petersburg is just a bit chillier than what you're used to, Yuuri," Victor remarks with a smile.

It is a little more than "just a bit chillier" but Yuuri only nods to the statement, burrowing deeper into his scarf with his nose. Hasetsu and Detroit had their fair share of cruel winter weather but it is nowhere near St Petersburg. He looks around at the city--the snow covered land that is smooth and undisturbed, and building after building of masterful architecture filled with history and meaning.

St Petersburg is beautiful and picturesque--

\--but it is not home.

He does not feel the same peace that settles in his heart as he does when he walks the streets of Hasetsu.

Yuuri reminds himself that he has not been here for long. With Victor, he is sure anywhere will eventually begin to feel like home.

 

They eat breakfast at what's quickly becoming their usual diner. It's a busy day everyday for the staff, who begin to recognize Yuuri now. Sit down, sit down, Varvara urges them with a wide smile as she carries a tray with eight cups of coffee.

The two of them slide into the last empty booth, to which Victor sing-songs "Lucky!" when he sees it from the entrance. Yuuri is immediately drawn to the couple sitting in the booth behind Victor. The diner is filled with clinking of utensils and cheerful music that is practically drowned out by the uproarious chatter everywhere. But somehow--somehow that booth seems quiet. The couple is sitting in the same side instead of across from each other. He can't hear what they're saying, but Yuuri knows that they do not even hear the man snorting with laughter edging near delirium, nor the deafening shatter of a cup splitting into a million pieces on the floor a few tables away.

The shorter one leans toward the taller one and whispers something into his ear. Even Yuuri, who has only just moved to Russia, can surmise part of what is said from the movement of his lips. _Люблю._ Love.

Yuuri is well-versed in having a conversation with Victor without having a conversation, inserting nods and _Is that so_ 's here and there. He doesn't realize he has been doing this since they sat down until he refocuses back onto his fiance, who has leaned forward, eyes wide and face open in inquiry.

"Yuuri, do you think it's a good idea?"

"Well," Yuuri says, the quiet _люблю_ echoing in his head until his ears ring. "That depends."

 

 

"C'mon, my cute little piggy!" Victor says playfully from behind, grabbing the extra skin on Yuuri's stomach. The two of them lean precariously over the rinkside from Victor's forceful embrace.

Yuuri tenses, ever so slightly, resisting every instinct in him to bow over and slap the offending hands away. He barely hears Victor chiding him about how many pirozhkis he had eaten yesterday with Yuri.

Victor does this all the time, Yuuri reminds himself, and he has no malicious intent in these words. He pulls himself together and tells his fiance, he knows, he knows already, he'll watch out next time.

Yuri scowls at the two of them, disgust apparent in his eyes. "You don't have to listen to that old man, you know."

"I would never force my Yuuri to do anything! Everything he does is because he wants to. Right, Yuuri?"

Yuuri glances at his fiance and idol, who looks at him with such a gentle gaze, that it almost feels worshipful. Worshipping _him._ "O-of course."

When they are all on the ice, left to their own training, Yuuri remembers the whispered _люблю_ from the diner, and then Victor's reverence, his own reverence, and wonders if that is what love looks like.

* * *

Victor Nikiforov is beautiful and picturesque--

... .... .......

* * *

Yuuri steps into the shower and twists the faucet on, making sure to crank up the hot water to compensate for the St Petersburg chill. He sighs as the heat unravels the tension in his shoulders and closes his eyes.

Yuuri thinks about his past, along with his future. He thinks about the pristine magazines he has tucked away in shelves back in Hasetsu, all containing one thing in common--one person, to be precise. How he would walk into the convenience store, beelining towards the skating magazine and proceed to skim through the whole thing until his eye catches the one person he is always looking for.

He'd go back to the rink, buzzing on the inside to share it with Yuuko. Stay over at Yuuko's house, both crowded around the laptop watching the Worlds at 2 AM. Words spilling out of his mouth faster than he can think them: _his twizzles, I just cannot, and that timed jump--I'm--ugh!_

And even in college, how the key to his closest friendships were _Do you like Victor Nikiforov? I do too!_

Phichit would lay in Yuuri's bed with him, letting the hamsters crawl all over them as they giggled over the rodents' scratchy feet on their stomachs. And then Yuuri would remember how Victor had mentioned he had a small rash on his stomach in the May issue three years ago on _Skate Today_ and proceed to inform Phichit of this. _I'm sure his abs still looked gorgeous with his rash or not,_ he had said offhandedly.

When he thinks of every event in his life--every tragedy, meeting, decision--how it all leads to Victor Nikiforov. The path that he blindly follows in the dark from one stepping stone to the next has somehow, by some miracle, blessed him with the one figure he has been revolving around his whole life. When he thinks of this fact, he wants to cry. And he has, when he thinks about the future: collecting warm, happy memories with Victor until one day he can look back and see them all together, glowing against everything else that is dark and unsure, like a night full of fireflies.

He thinks about the whispered _люблю_ and lets the water wash away his tears.

 

Yuuri walks into their bedroom after his shower, hair still dripping wet. Victor is already in the sheets, waiting for him. Yuuri smiles at his fiance and quietly approaches him. Victor sits up slightly and props his head in his hand. The blanket slips off his shoulder, revealing smooth skin that glows under the moonlight. Victor sends him a secretive smile, and Yuuri forgets everything else.

 

And so they make love throughout the night, Victor's arms wrapped around Yuuri tightly like relentless chains.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


End file.
